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Abraham Lincoln 
A Tribute 







An Address by 

MAGGIE BLAUVELT CARR 

February 12, 1909 



Public School Eighty-nine 
New York City 



CCU 2^6594 



FORTY-TWO years before the three 
kings of the Orient, led by a star, made 
their journey to a manger in Bethlehem, 
Publius Syrus wrote these words: "I have 
often regretted my speech, but never my 
silence," and now one thousand nine 
hundred and nine years since that event in 
Bethlehem of Judea, which has been of so 
much interest to all students of history, 
whatever their creed, I stand here almost 
regretting my speech before it is made, for 
perhaps it would be better for me — a 
woman — to keep silent on this great occa- 
sion. When I received the invitation from 
your principal to speak here to-day, my 
first impulse was to say no. Then I com- 
menced to think, and I remembered that 
on this twelfth day of February the flags 
would be thrown to the breezes all over 
our land ; that in the morning the school- 
houses would be open, and that the chil- 
dren would assemble for special exercises; 
that in the evening magnificent banquets 
would be spread and that men would tell 
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in eloquent language of the life of a man 
who was born one hundred years ago to- 
day. 

Then I remembered that one of the 
most widely-read histories of that man's life 
was written by a woman, Ida M. Tarbell. 
Then I remembered that at Gettysburg 
Abraham Lincoln made his most famous 
address, which was received by his audi- 
ence in silence, but which has been handed 
down to us as a classic. I remembered that 
to-day on that famous battle field stands 
a monument to a woman, the only woman 
killed during the battle of Gettysburg — 
those three days of dreadful warfare which 
ended in victory for the North — remem- 
bered by the South as the time when the 
"flower of Virginia fell." 

This woman's name was Jennie Wade. 
She was eighteen years of age. She was 
engaged to be married to a Union soldier. 
She was busy in her home baking bread 
for the soldiers on the battlefield when a 
shell crashed through the house and killed 
her instantly. To her memory there has 
been erected the statue of a veiled woman. 
It stands just outside the National Ceme- 
tery overlooking a closely-clipped hedge. 

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As a mother guards her children in their 
sleep, so she seems to be guarding these 
unknown sleepers in their last resting place. 

And so with these thoughts, and remem- 
bering what women have done and are 
doing for the advancement of patriotism 
in our country, I have come here to take 
my part in this great celebration. 

For many years I have held membership 
in a patriotic society founded on ancestry, 
and I regret that the object of that society 
is sometimes misunderstood. We who are 
eligible join it because we believe that the 
deeds of our ancestors — the men w^ho 
founded and freed this our home land — 
deserve to be remembered by their descend- 
ants forever, and in this manner we are 
trying to do our part. 

When these men — our great, great 
grandfathers — had worked with ax and 
shovel and hammer to establish their 
homes, they declared their attitude toward 
Great Britain with the pen. Then these 
men of 1776 shouldered the rifle and after 
seven years of hardship they threw off the 
British yoke and they gave us our country. 

When you enter this society a blank is 
given the applicant to fill and one of the 

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first questions asks the age of the appli- 
cant. I have been told by the registrar 
of this society that in a period covering 
twenty years this question has been 
answered but twice. Once the age was 
eighteen, once it was eighty — a girl rejoic- 
ing in her youth, a woman feeling the honor 
of her years. But I know that between 
those birthdays a woman seldom m.entions 
her age. 

So, calmly facing the awful possibility of 
everyone here knovv^ing just about how 
long I have been on earth, I want to tell you 
when I first heard the name of Abraham 
Lincoln. One beautiful spring morning, 
long years ago, on entering our dining-room 
for my breakfast, a most unusual sight 
met my childish eyes. No one was eating, 
no one was at the table, but seated near 
a window my father was reading from the 
morning paper, which was deeply lined with 
black. His ow^n voice was broken as he 
read, and the others were weeping. And 
then it was explained to the youngest 
daughter of the household that a great and 
a good man had been called suddenly to 
meet his Maker. Then came the period 
of mourning, when the houses were draped 



in black. Then there came the day when 
we children were taken to see that large 
procession pass through Fifth Avenue and 
the hearse that bore all that was mortal 
of the President of the United States, whose 
name will ever be linked with the Proclama- 
tion of Emancipation — the man who 
SAVED us our country. 

Later we children learned in the schools, 
as you children are doing to-day, of this 
man's life and deeds. Now in the maturity 
of my years I think of him as I think of 
Moses, who led the children of Israel into 
the Promised Land. I think of him as I 
think of the angels who sang that night 
over Bethlehem: "Peace on earth, good 
will toward men," for I know that he led 
a nation out of bondage and brought peace 
to our land. By the liberation of a nation 
he bound a nation together and made it 
possible for it to stand before the other 
nations of the world honored and respected 
because of his act of humanity, civilization 
and decency. And I know that his act 
made it possible for brains and talent to 
be recognized, no matter what the color of 
a man's skin. I know that his act made it 
possible for a Negro girl to graduate from 

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a university in Atlanta, Ga., and twenty- 
three years ago to begin teaching a few 
children of her own race. By earnest work 
she now stands at the head of a school in 
Augusta, Ga., accomodating more than 
seven hundred children and employing 
twenty-two teachers. I refer to Miss Lucy 
C. Laney. I know that his act made it 
possible for a man — Paul Lawrence Dunbar, 
born of slave parents — to leave to this 
world, when he passed out of it a few years 
ago, his beautiful poems, which to-day 
stand on my book-shelves with those of 
Longfellow and Tennyson. I know that 
by the act of Abraham Lincoln, it was 
possible for Mr. Henry O. Tanner to culti- 
vate his wonderful talent; to exhibit his 
magnificent paintings of Scriptural subjects 
in all of the large cities of Europe and 
America, and to be credited by foreign 
critics with standing third among the many 
artists of the United States. I know 
Abraham Lincoln made it possible for a 
man who was himself born a slave to 
found and conduct a college and to 
graduate from it each year young men so 
well equipped in the arts, professions and 
trades that they may lead useful and 
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worthy lives and stand shoulder to shoul- 
der with their white brothers. And to 
those of you who listen to me to-day and 
are of his race, I bring a message as I heard it 
from the lips of Mr. Booker T. Washington, 
a few weeks ago, when he said: "To those 
of my race who desire advancement for 
themselves and their children I implore 
that they never undertake it with violence, 
but with honesty, industry and earnest- 
ness, aided by the midnight prayer." 

And now I urge upon you all to be faith- 
ful in every undertaking and always to re- 
member the dearly bought, priceless gift of 
liberty. I urge you to remember all that 
has been done for a nation and a race by a 
man whose heart was tender and sym- 
pathetic toward the least of men. All that 
we can do to-day on this the one hundredth 
anniversary of his birth — from the poorest 
to the most eloquent speaker — is to bring 
from a garland of thought a tribute of 
words to lay on an altar of love in memory 
of that great and good man, Abraham 
Lincoln. 



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